Black Yew
by Kwantum
Summary: Gwindor is still recovering from the death of Beleg and quite frankly, Turin's actions towards Finduilas isn't helping. But when Turin threatens what Gwindor holds dearly, things go over the line.


It has been years since the death of Beleg but Gwindor is still grieving. Hi sighed and looked down upon his maimed hand, a mark of his time in Angband. Though he was now dishonored in Nargothrond, he was still permitted to stay in the house where he and his brother were raised. This house looked out into by far Gwindor's favourite part of Nargothrond. It was where he had played with his brother in his early years and where he had gotten his first glimpse of Findulas, daughter of Orodeth. It was a garden were many of the Noldor spent their time, and in the middle were two trees, honoring the two trees of Valinor. They were indeed gifts directly from Yavanna and were brought from the blessed realm.

Lost in memory of happier times and his mind successfully taken off Beleg, his rude awakening to reality came in the form of Findulas laughing at some frivolous remark coming from Turin.

Another sigh coming from Gwindor. It could not be denied that his betrothed was avoiding him and spending an ample amount of time with "Blood Stained" son of "Ill-Fate" or as she called him, "Thurin" the secret. Watching them from his window talking and laughing was not one of Gwindor's favourite things so he consented to go back to where he laid Beleg to rest.

More than anything-thought he as he walked unnoticed and unwanted from the gates of Nargothrond-he wanted to put a fist through Turin son of Hurin. He wanted to shake him, to make him feel the pain of slaying Beleg. He was repulsed by his ability to laugh and woo his savior's betrothed while the friend that spent years helping him was lying dead by his hands. Oh, he was maddened for a while but that was more from shock than anything else.

Gwindor had had similar conversations with himself. Unable to talk to anyone else he had taken to haunting where Beleg lay and the Pools of Irvin. Him not being missed when he disappeared for days at a time was another reason for him to stew in his own puddle of misery. He usually spoke to himself about Turin, how he stole all from him and that he hardly showed any remorse for the slaying of Beleg after he began the entrancing of Finduilais.

Not that he could count as an authority of Beleg Cuthalion. Being comforted and saved by an unknown stranger and creeping around in the woods for a few days without talking did not necessarily mean that he knew anything about him that anyone else did. He knew bits and pieces about his life of helping the rebellious Turin. He had hoped to hear most of it later, but of course now...

Another sigh *he was doing that a lot lately* he was startled to find himself standing very close to his destination. He couldn't have taken him one sigh to take him all the way here could it? He blinked and looked again Now you're really loosing it this was just a tree, not The tree, just a tree. Okay, so your life's been spiraling downwards but come on, you're had plenty of "solace" time Could he really blame himself? It was a black yew after all...

Ever since Gwindor had gotten Turin into his homeland he's been uneasy. Whenever not on something else his mind would stray off the the soft pile of earth that now hid the person that had the most uplifting influence on him in his life, save Finduilas...He wanted to do something a little more, Beleg deserved more.

The next morning he had inadvertently dug op one of the last black yew trees in the city and quickly ran to the place he knew well in his mind. When reaching the place he gently planted the black yew and stood back. It had been such a good idea in his mind, planting a tree of the wood that Belthronding had been made of but it seemed rather feeble in the now. No matter, it would grow in time and would be a silent monument, it was after all the best that he could do.

After a long day's sprint he had returned, Beleg's black yew which he had marked with a tiny green gem set firmly in the roots had indeed grown in the years thanks to his elven nurturing. He was pleased and stayed there for a long while, days even. Anything to get away from the sickening adoration that Turin was getting.

If it wasn't for the fact that Beleg had made him swear that he would watch over Turin and make sure that he came to no harm he might just...He smiled to himself, a very rare thing to happen nowadays.

...

"No!" Gwindor woke up, this couldn't be happening! Elves were approaching him, elves swinging axes and felling the trees, the trees that they once loved as much as themselves.

What? Who?

Turin, who else? Turin was leading them, encouraging them, he walked up to Gwindor who was standing protectively and aggressively in front of the tree that symbolized so much to him.

"It must be felled," said Turin simply, "stand aside"

"Why?" Gwindor spat with defiance.

"The bridge, only good can come from it, I hoped that you would understand."

By now all of the elves and watching the pair converse, and though Turin's words were calm they could sense the tension building up in him.

At his last words Gwindor looked at the long stretch of death that Turin had caused and he said quietly,

"For many thousands of years these trees have stood, and all it took was one self centered arrogant war mongerer with a proud head to bring it down in a matter of days."

At these insults Turin was enraged and was about to strike out at Gwindor if it wasn't for the lingering reminder of the debt that he owed. His face softened and replied softly yet stubbornly,

"I forever wish that you would agree with me but I must do what I believe is right, I must do this."

"Why?" Gwindor was internally crumbling in front of all of these people that stood against him but he would sooner go back to Angband than go down without a fight, at least on this issue.

Turin finding nothing to say that was not already said decided to take the offense,

"What's so important about this tree to you?"

He looked down, took in the small mounds and looked around, as if just realizing where he was and what Gwindor was standing so protectively over.

"Ah yes, a black yew. This is the place is it not?"

"Yes," Gwindor was relieved, thinking that now that Turin had realized what he was about to cut down, he would reconsider...but..."

"Cut it down, if it is indeed a black yew and if it grows here, it's wood will indeed be very mighty." Turin announced to the elves who were waiting for instruction.

Gwindor was to appalled to scream.


End file.
